When the World Ends
by At A Venture
Summary: One shot. Buffy finds an unexpected house guest hiding out in her bathroom.


The sweet and sour scent of lime drenched in coconut circulated through the small bathroom. Buffy mumbled half-heartedly to the music pumping out of her stereo as she lathered a sliver of green soap between her palms. Suds cascaded through her fingers and around the small round bones in her wrists. Lifting the reduced bar of soap, she rubbed it gingerly against her face, inhaling the intoxicating tropical scent. A purr of delight slipped from her pink lips, spread out in a wide smile.

Pivoting on her heel, Buffy turned back to face the showerhead. A blast of forceful but ultimately enjoyable water massaged her cheeks as the soap washed away. In rivulets it flowed down her thin neck, pooling briefly in the cavity above her collarbone before spilling down her sternum and belly. With her hands, she reached up to scrub the remainder of the soap from her eyes. Between her sudsy fingers, the last remaining portion of lime and coconut soap slipped away, barreling end over end toward the porcelain tub in which she stood.

"Aw," she began with a groan, wiping suds out of one eye with the back of her hand. Warily, Buffy knelt down in the slick tub, reaching out one hand blindly to grasp at the coveted soap. Beyond the tub, the song on the stereo changed. Dramatic music plunged out of the speakers, giving the whole occasion a less-than-airy tropical feel. Only moments ago, she'd felt cozy and comfortable, relaxed. Now, with the music and the dropped soap, everything seemed rushed and restless.

"Let me help you with that." His voice was tender, but with a certain impenetrable darkness. The bathroom door shut soundlessly behind him, clicking with barely a whisper. Buffy discarded her search and scrambled for the shower curtain, nearly losing her balance. Instead, she managed to pull the curtain around the important parts and stare angrily over the edge at her intruder.

He had dressed simply enough, though he was certainly wearing too many clothes to be of much help finding soap in a running shower. A crisp white shirt had been pulled over his chest, though several of the pearly white buttons had been left unfastened. Despite the cover, she could see that he was well built, muscled and hardened with time and effort. His pants were clean, black as night, and unwrinkled, as though he'd ironed them. Though, to look at his face, you'd know he'd never pick up an iron. Though the rest of him was neat and straight-laced, his hair was spiked in all directions, obviously permanent bed-head. He smiled a wry grin as he flicked his fingertip against the stereo and it changed to another song.

"Angel…" Buffy whispered, her eyes widening at the sight of him. He contrasted greatly with the shabby, peeling wallpaper and the moldy tile grout. For half a second, she considered pushing him back out of the unseemly bathroom. But where to send him except the equally, or possibly more, shabby apartment on the other side of the bathroom door? Better to keep him here where he was of more…use. "How did you…?"

"Heard you were in town, thought I'd look you up."

The smile disappeared briefly from his lips as he took her in. Deep brown eyes, several times older than the woman he looked upon, traveled over her rugged but ever beautiful face. She'd acquired new scars since he'd last seen her, but through the years of fighting and frustration, she'd managed to retain some measure of innocence in her elegant green eyes. A curtain of wet blond hair framed the right side of her face, curling around her chin and pressing against the base of her neck. On the opposite side, two puncture holes, now deep scars, marred her otherwise delicate white skin.

Sweeping her hand across a flimsy rod, Buffy pushed aside the plastic shower curtain. Blood flooded her cheeks and a light redness colored her damp face. A muscular forearm reached out from the shower and wrapped around Angel's wrist, pulling him abruptly closer, just as he discarded his shirt and shoes beside Buffy's towel. He stumbled in beside her, trousers still clutching his angular hips.

Their mouths played against one another, tongues dancing. The resounding sound of a wet smack echoed throughout the tiny tile-covered room as Angel lifted the slayer into his arms and pressed her back firmly against the wall. Above them, water poured at a merciless speed, whipping at the vampire's backside in punishment for their sudden arousal. Beneath him, Buffy panted between invasive but sensual kisses, though the struggle for air brought no additional supply.

"We shouldn't," she groaned at last, managing to break away for a second and catch a glimpse of his handsome face. "It would be wrong."

"Oh god, is the world ending?"

"What day is it again?"

"Tuesday,"

"Oh, not until tomorrow,"

"Plenty of time then,"

The plastic shower curtain felt cold and wet in her tight fist as Buffy blinked and opened her eyes. The sliver of lime scented soap lie next to her head, mere millimeters from her blinking eye. Above her, the curtain rod had been ripped from the wall. Only the screws remained in the old wall, screws that had held fast for most threats but not those of a klutzy vampire slayer.

"Damn dreams," Buffy muttered as she picked herself and her soap up off the floor of the tub. "Always cut out at the best part."


End file.
